


Laxare et Intrare

by InfiniteCrisis



Series: The Infinitives Series [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Hannibal, Bottom Will Graham, Breathplay, Caring Hannibal Lecter, Come Eating, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominant Will Graham, Felching, Fluff and Smut, Hannibal Doesn't Actually Mind That Much, Hannibal Loves Will, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, M/M, Pushy Will Graham, Rimming, Spanking, Submissive Hannibal Lecter, Top Hannibal Lecter, Will Loves Hannibal, because these fuckers don't do safe and sane apparently, cause i just couldn't help myself, will has a potty mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-14 04:04:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11775114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteCrisis/pseuds/InfiniteCrisis
Summary: To Open and To Enter:It's the morning after the events of Dormire et Excitare.  Will and Hannibal have breakfast, and then Will decides it's his turn to get buggered.  Hannibal obliges.  Eventually.





	1. Laxare

**Author's Note:**

> So...I guess this is a series now? I don't know how much I'll actually end up writing, I'm going to try and keep each story pretty self contained, so this is another 2 chapter fic. The second chapter will be up as soon as I finish it, which will hopefully be later this week if I can get my shit together. 
> 
> This story is pretty much continuing right where Dormire et Excitare left off, so reading that is definitely recommended. Basically, it's some morning after awkwardness, breakfast flirting, and then, well...then they flip :-P Hannibal is still such a sub tho, and Will's a pushy little shit, so...yeah. 
> 
> As usual, let me know if there's any tags you think I missed, or if there's anything you'd like me to address or questions you'd like answered. 
> 
> Also, if I keep this going, it'll be interesting to see how long I can ACTUALLY keep the whole "Latin Verb" title thing going :-/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Open.

Will woke up in an empty bed.  He knew it was empty the moment he came into consciousness, as Hannibal’s body lying next to his wasn’t something he was about to just _miss_. 

They’d fallen asleep wrapped up in each other, limbs tangling loosely as they slid under the covers, not even bothering to clean up. 

Will could now hear the sound of a shower running, coming from Hannibal’s bathroom.  He sat up, the blankets bunching up around his waist.  He checked the time; it was well after ten, and on the way toward eleven, which was much later than Will or Hannibal tended to start the day.  There were two empty glasses still sitting on the table by the window. 

He felt suddenly rather naked—or, well, _aware_ of his nakedness—and looked over the side of the bed for his clothes.  They weren’t on the floor where he’d left them, but a glance about the room quickly located a perfectly folded pile of what he could identify as his own clothing set next to the less-than-perfectly folded pile of Hannibal’s clothes he’d made the night before.

He glanced at the door to the bathroom; the shower was still running.  He sat on the bed, unsure, and then stood up and gathered his clothes.  Quietly, he ducked out of the room, shutting the door behind him, and crossed the hall to his bedroom on the other side. 

He showered and dressed.  Brushed his teeth.  He looked in the mirror and felt odd seeing himself.  The entirety of the previous night and that early morning seemed almost unreal, like a particularly vivid dream—the kind where, when you woke, you weren’t entirely certain which side of sleep reality truly sat on.

He opened his bedroom door and stepped out.  He looked towards Hannibal’s door and saw it was part-way open.  He approached it slowly, reaching out a hand to gently push the door open wider.  Inside, the room was empty and immaculate; the bed had been made with fresh sheets, Hannibal’s folded clothes were no longer on top of the dresser, and the glasses that had held Will’s whiskey and Hannibal’s wine were gone as well.  He could see the door to the washroom was open, but there weren’t any more sounds emanating from there. 

After a moment, he turned and made his way downstairs. 

He went straight to the kitchen, his nose confirming before he entered that that’s where Hannibal must be, the scents of coffee and sausages wafting through the doorway.  Hannibal stood behind the stove, sleeves rolled up and wearing a crisp white apron, while he swirled something warm and savory around a hot pan.  He looked up when Will entered the room, a flicker of something darting across his eyes, and then turned back to his skillet. 

“Good morning,” Hannibal greeted.  “There’s coffee on the table, if you’d like.”  He gestured with one hand, sprinkling some herb onto what looked like a pair of omelets with the other.  The smells of sharp cheese and mushrooms were now discernible under the meaty smell of the sausage.  “I realize it’s quite late, but I thought we’d both benefit from a hearty breakfast regardless.” 

Will nodded.  The kitchen table had already been set.  They had a dining room, of course, but lately they’d been taking breakfast—and indeed, most of their meals—right in the kitchen, which had been something of a relief to Will.  The cherry-wood square table there was still fancier than anything Will had ever eaten at in his own home, but at least he didn’t feel like he should be wearing a dinner jacket at breakfast. 

There were two place settings—minus the plates—complete with both a clear goblet and elegant coffee cup each, along with a silver coffee carafe, containers of cream and sugar, and a pitcher of orange juice.  Fresh squeezed, probably, Will thought to himself. 

“I trust you slept well?”  Hannibal asked, carefully portioning out one omelet each onto the waiting plates on the counter. 

He didn’t seem to take note when Will didn’t answer him, almost like he was distracted.  It was nothing Will could put his finger on, but there was a faint tension under Hannibal’s easy words and carefully practiced motions.  In someone else he might describe it as ‘nervousness.’  ‘Nervous’ wasn’t a color Hannibal ever deigned to wear, but still…there was an air of uncertainty and unease about him that Will found disquieting.  Hannibal was always, if nothing else, eminently comfortable in his own skin.

His plating complete, Hannibal efficiently shut off the stove, wiped his hands, and slipped the apron off over his head.  He hung it up on its proscribed hook, and Will realized that since he’d walked in, Hannibal had yet to meet his eyes. 

Hannibal picked up a plate in each hand, eyes still turned atypically downward, and spun away from the counter, heels clicking against the old stone floor as he made his way around the kitchen island to the table. 

Feeling a surge of something in his chest, Will found himself darting forward, cutting cleanly into Hannibal’s path.  Hannibal stopped in his tracks, reeling slightly onto his heels, his arms smoothly adjusting the plates in his hands to avoid any disastrous spills or collisions.  Now face to face, Will sought out Hannibal’s eyes, peering into them expectantly.  Hannibal looked back, reserved, a sober wariness barely discernable behind his veiled expression.  He said nothing. 

Will frowned.  Then, delicately, he took hold of the plates Hannibal was holding, gripping the opposite side of the edge across from Hannibal’s hands.  Leaning in and over, he placed a light, dry kiss to Hannibal’s mouth.  He held for a moment, and then pulled back, squarely meeting Hannibal’s gaze.  There was a beat, and then Hannibal blinked, a lightness seeping into his eyes. 

Smiling softly, Will gently tugged the plates from Hannibal’s grasp--who let him take them without protest--and turned.  He set them carefully into their assigned places on the table, and then took a seat.  He silently poured himself a cup of coffee, eyes flicking up as he set the carafe back on the table. 

Hannibal was still standing in the same spot, watching him.  Then, with a slow breath, he crossed and sat at the table with Will.  Will lips stretched into a wider smile. 

“I wasn’t certain what your attitude would be,” Hannibal confessed as he unfolded his napkin and set it in his lap.  “Regarding last night’s events.” 

Will sipped his coffee, savoring the dark, bitter taste of Hannibal’s fancy imported coffee, and sighed. 

“I seems like you and I are always going forward and then gong back, going forward and going back, over and over,” Will said after a moment.  “Walking backwards blindly because we’re afraid to take our eyes off each other, so we never end up where we started anyway.”  He shook his head.  “I’m tired of trying to go back.  This is where we are now.  And whatever happens, I want to be facing the direction I’m going.” 

Hannibal listened quietly, head tilted thoughtfully.  After a pause, he nodded his understanding, and turned to his breakfast.

“What about you?”  Will asked, biting a morsel of cheesy egg from his fork.  “What’s your… _attitude_ this morning.” 

“Much the same as it was,” Hannibal replied.  He glanced toward Will.  “I have no regrets still, if that’s what you mean.” 

Will felt a fluttering in his chest.  It was hard not to feel overwhelmed by what Hannibal had given him, and the apparent ease with which he’d given it.   

 _I gave you a rare gift.  But you didn’t want it_.

The old words echoed inside Will’s skull.  He never wanted Hannibal to have cause to say them again. 

If he did, now, after all this, then he _deserved_ to be gutted. 

“Good.” Will said, and let some of the warmth and rawness he was feeling into his voice. 

A flicker in Hannibal’s eyes showed he’d heard it, and then a smile teased at the man’s lips as he ducked his head almost shyly. 

“And, are you feeling, um,” Will swallowed another mouthful of egg, fighting off a blush.  “…Okay?  I mean…”  He gestured awkwardly with his fork.  “…physically,” he finally finished, mumbling.

Hannibal looked at him with undisguised amusement. 

“There’s no need to concern yourself, Will.  I am quite resilient, as you well know,” Hannibal assured him, eyes twinkling.  He looked back to his plate, continuing to speak casually.  “Over the years I have found that, even aside from what I have learned to block out, I have an unusually high tolerance for pain, compared to most.” 

Will froze.  Then, he bit down on his tongue— _hard_ —because that should, unequivocally, _not_ have been an arousing statement.

“Does that please you?”

Will shot Hannibal a mild glare, to which Hannibal merely raised an eyebrow.  Will swallowed back a sigh.  He really shouldn’t be surprised that Hannibal had noticed his reaction and was calling him out on it. 

“Does it _please_ me?” Will retorted, throwing the question back tightly.

“Yes,” Hannibal replied, unperturbed.  “Are you, even now, imagining what you could do to me, how much I could be made to take?”  Hannibal met Will’s gaze, eyes smoldering.  “Perhaps you have a desire to test my limits.” 

Will’s chest tightened, as did his groin.    

“Maybe I just wanted to know if you were uncomfortable,” Will said back, meeting Hannibal’s gaze sternly. 

There was nothing to indicate that he was, Will noted.  Hannibal was sitting with his usual straight, relaxed posture, with absolutely no sign as to what Will had done to his ass the previous night.  Will held Hannibal’s gaze, though he was finding it difficult not to let his eyeline wander down to where the man’s pants met the seat of his chair.

“Would you like me to be?” Hannibal answered, undaunted.

Will didn’t reply, and Hannibal went right on speaking, like he were discussing the weather. 

“Would you prefer it if I were wincing, and wriggling in my chair?”  He inclined his head pointedly.  “You did say you enjoyed seeing me squirm, as I recall.” 

Will’s face felt searingly hot.  He was starting to think he maybe shouldn’t have provided an opening to this discussion over breakfast. 

“And if I did,” Will replied, with a slightly mocking tone.  “If I preferred you _wincing_ and _wriggling_.  If I wanted to see how much it took to have you squirming in your chair at breakfast.”  He fixed Hannibal was a look.  “Then what?” 

Hannibal regarded him, unblinking.  He didn’t answer.  He had that look about him—like he was waiting for the situation to further reveal itself. 

“ _Tolerance_ ” Will said, jaw clicking.  “Is not enjoyment.  You’re not a masochist, Hannibal.”  He tilted his head, eyes narrowing.  “ _Are_ you?” 

Hannibal seemed to consider a moment.  Then he took a breath.  “Not generally, no.  My relationship to pain until now has been one marked by endurance, not pleasure.  But then,” Hannibal fixed his eyes on Will.  “I wouldn’t generally consider you to be a sadist.  Generalities do not apply, where you and I are concerned.” 

Will felt something in his stomach flip, the sensation both exciting and agitating.

“Then let’s not talk generalities,” Will said, setting down his fork.  “Let’s talk specifics.”  His voice ended the last word in a low hiss.  He let it hang in the air for a beat, eyes raking over Hannibal face and form.  “Does your ass hurt?  Right now?” 

Hannibal grew still.  Then he blinked.  “Yes.”

“How much,” Will pressed. 

Hannibal took in a breath, thinking.  “Enough to be noticeable and, at moments, distracting.”

“But not enough to make you squirm,” Will teased.

Hannibal’s lip quirked.  “No.” 

Will inhaled through his nose, steeling himself.  “Do you like it?” 

There was a long moment when Will thought he could hear the rush of not only his own blood in his ears, but also Hannibal’s.

“Yes.” 

Will’s thighs clenched, his cock twitching in his pants. 

“Why?” Will’s voice sounded muffled to him, his tongue thick in his mouth. 

Hannibal watched him, unmoving, his eyes black and piercing.  Finally, he spoke, a thread of tension weaving under his usual even tone.

“It's a remembrance,” he said, carefully steady.  “In the moment, pain and pleasure swirled into each other until they were nearly indistinguishable.  Now, each remaining ache and sting marks a place you have touched me.  I might have relished them for that reason alone, but that they were made while you sought your own pleasure, as a sign of your…” Here he paused, his voice dropping quieter with a tiny drop of hesitation  “…Desire for me—”  He paused again, eyes shifting.  “—It excites and exhilarates me to feel the lingering effects of that desire.  And, to remember the pleasure it brought us both.” 

He then broke away from Will’s gaze, his own turning abruptly down and inward.  His eyelids were half-hooded, shielding his eyes from Will’s view. 

“The… _ache_ inside me, in particular,” Hannibal said, soft and slow.  “Is distractingly enticing.  In some ways, it is as though I can still feel you there, within me…and yet it is only an echo, muted and unsatisfying, and serves merely to spark a yearning to be filled by you again.”  He raised his eyes.  “Is that sufficient answer to your question?”

“Yes,” Will rasped, and swallowed.  He was undeniably hard, sitting at breakfast with a half-eaten omelet in front of him.  All because Hannibal was able to talk about the pain in his ass like it was fucking poetry. 

That wasn’t the only effect of Hannibal’s little speech either.  As he’d spoken, Will had felt his own ass clench, his hole suddenly feeling uncomfortably empty.  He probably mostly had his own empathy to blame for that one—though he did wonder if that had been Hannibal’s intention: to entice Will into imagining what it would be like to feel Hannibal inside him, the way he’d been inside Hannibal. 

Well, if that _had_ been the intention, it had definitely worked, and honestly Will couldn’t even find it in him to be peeved at being manipulated.  His hole clenched again while his cock throbbed, and Will was all at once very eager for breakfast to be over.      

Hannibal had fallen silent, though Will could feel his eyes on him, and they both ate quietly for a time.  When they’d finished, Hannibal rose to clear the table, and Will rose quickly with him, cutting in and grabbing him by the collar.  He pulled him into a bruising kiss, his hand clenched into a fist beneath Hannibal’s throat. 

“Upstairs,” he growled against Hannibal’s mouth.

“Will,” Hannibal chided patiently, pulling back a bit.  “There’s washing up to do.” 

Will tightened his grip on Hannibal’s collar.  “Up.  _Stairs_.” 

Hannibal’s eyelids fluttered, breath hitching.  He nodded. 

Will kissed him again, and pulled Hannibal toward the door.  He led him, walking backwards up the stairs, interspersing slow kisses along the journey.  It wasn’t a frenzied dash to the bedroom—more like a slow, hypnotizing waltz, as though Will were some sort of Siren luring his prey.  The thought made him laugh, because if either one of them was to play the role of the seductive monster that leads men away to be eaten, then you’d think Hannibal would be the more obvious choice.  But then, things didn’t always play out the way you’d expect, he mused.

Will brought Hannibal up to his bedroom, feeling the need to place things in his home court.  Hannibal didn’t comment, or seem to make much of the choice at all, content to let Will keep teasing his lips with languid kisses. 

Will kissed Hannibal again, more deeply this time, and heard Hannibal’s softly moaning hum in response.  Will drew out the kiss longer, buying himself time as he gathered his courage.  Still steeling himself, Will brushed his lips to the corner of Hannibal’s mouth and then slid up the line of his jaw before moving to the bare skin of his neck.  He mouthed the flesh there, just under Hannibal’s ear, worrying the skin between his teeth.  Hannibal wrapped his arms around his back and nuzzled against him, tilting his head to allow Will greater access. 

Finally, taking a deep breath, Will set his lips against the curve of Hannibal’s ear and whispered.

“I want you inside me.”

He’d almost said something more direct like, ‘I want you to fuck me,’ but had switched at the last second, maybe thinking the more delicate phrasing would appeal to Hannibal more, or maybe just because he’d been worried he’d stutter on the word ‘fuck’ in this context. 

The moment he’d spoken, Hannibal grew still.  He drew back from their embrace.  He looked at Will, lips parted, revealing his tongue against his bottom lip, and for a moment Will could see a kind of naked wonder and reverence on his face.  Then, Hannibal blinked, mouth closing with a tight swallow, and just like that, he was clothed again. 

“In the interest of avoiding any possible future unpleasantness, I feel compelled to ask…” Hannibal hands moved to Will’s arms as he spoke, stroking softly.  His eyes glanced away, and then back again.  “…Have you done anything like that before?”

Will swallowed, embarrassed.  “No,” he grunted reluctantly. 

“Nothing?” Hannibal pressed, following Will’s eyes as he tried to look away. 

“No,” Will repeated, brusque and restless.  “But,” and he took Hannibal’s face between his hands.  “I want it with you.” 

He said it firmly, resolute, and as he did he realized just how true it was.  He leaned in. 

“I want you,” he said again, his voice dropping to a hush.  “I want to _feel_ you in me.”

Hannibal took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. 

“Perhaps,” he said gently, a hand lifting to brush Will’s errant curls from his face.  “We should take things more slowly.” 

Will felt himself reel back from Hannibal’s touch, and Hannibal’s hand stilled. 

“We…are you serious?” Will laughed, the tone acrid, reflecting the sourness in his stomach.  “You—” He broke off, shaking his head, and then leaned into Hannibal’s face.  “I came in you three times last night, and now you want to _go more slowly?_ ” 

Hannibal gave a restrained sigh, turning his face to one side.  On some level, Will knew he was overreacting, that his spitefulness was unwarranted, but he couldn’t help feeling like he’d taken a risk and been rejected.

“Will,” Hannibal began.  “Should you ever choose to give yourself to me in that way, it would be my wish that the experience be a pleasurable one for you,” he explained, eyes entreating.  “To say the least,” he continued, with a pointed look.  “I would hate to put that at risk, merely out of rash impatience.” 

Will’s face flushed, and yes, rationally, he could see Hannibal’s point, but right now he just felt raw and vulnerable and Hannibal’s reasoned justification was coming off as unbearably patronizing. 

“So, after that little smut show you put on downstairs,” Will said bitterly.  “Getting me all hot and practically aching to get fucked, you’re not even going to _consider_ following through.” 

Hannibal’s eyes flickered.  There was a long pause.  “That was not my intention, Will,” Hannibal said carefully.  “I meant to excite you, yes, but that was the extent of my motives.” 

Will took in a breath.  That…well, he supposed he could believe that.  Maybe he had a slightly exaggerated view of Hannibal as a master manipulator.  That thought calmed him down a bit.  Still, there remained a sharp sting of rejection twisting inside him. 

“I just can’t believe after everything, _this_ is what you’re denying me,” he muttered. 

“I am not denying you,” Hannibal insisted, a hard glint to his eyes.  The look softened, and he sighed.  “I am advising caution, that is all.” 

There was a long moment, and then Hannibal stepped in closer. 

“If you wish to explore this,” Hannibal said, his eyes dark with promise.  He cupped the back of Will’s neck in his hand, his thumb playing along the curve of Will’s jaw, and met Will’s eyes squarely.  “Then, we will.  But, do not blame me if it not what you expect.” 

Will felt a shudder run through him, and he swallowed.  Had he just…won this argument?  Had this _been_ an argument? 

Had Hannibal just maneuvered him into demanding to be fucked, in a way that would be near impossible for him to back out of? 

Or maybe, given what Hannibal had already let Will do to him, Will could stop being such a jackass and start giving him the benefit of the doubt.  He might never know for certain how much Hannibal was deceiving him, but he had to believe that some of what he’d seen was real.  The only other choice was to walk away.

And that wasn’t going to happen.    

“…Tell me what to do.” Will said, with more confidence than he felt.

His heartbeat quickened in his chest—nervous anticipation of all that those words implied.  Hannibal watched him, his dark eyes unreadable.    

“Undress,” Hannibal said, turning away to begin removing his own shirt.  “And lie face down on the bed.”

Will felt a flutter go through his stomach, and moved to obey.  Naked, he stretched out on the bed, pushed up on his elbows, his toes tapping restlessly behind him. 

He felt the bed dip, and glanced over his shoulder.  Hannibal had stripped down to his underwear and was now climbing onto the mattress behind Will.  Will chewed absently on his tongue, and then spread his legs, making room for Hannibal between them.  Hannibal met his eyes as he knelt between Will’s thighs, his expression somehow both serious and amused at once.  Will’s ass reflexively clenched, and he blushed, the heat running up the back of his neck.  Hannibal just looked at him with that same expression, something guarded about his eyes.  He reached out a hand, and Will turned his eyes forward, bracing himself

Instead of touching him, however, Hannibal reached over him and placed his hands on the mattress on either side of Will’s ribs.  He bent forward, bringing his face down behind Will’s neck.  Will could feel the warmth of his breath there, and then shivered as Hannibal’s lips brushed against his spine.  Slowly, Hannibal lay soft kisses across Will’s shoulders and neck, his movements unhurried and indulgent, like this was all he wanted or meant to do.  He reached to tease behind Will’s ear with his tongue, and Will let out a soft moan, head falling forward.  Finally, Hannibal began to make his way downward.  He marked each vertebrae of Will’s spine with his mouth, dipping between them with tickling caresses. 

Will buried his face in his arms, hips shifting as Hannibal teased the nerve-endings along his skin.  He was painfully hard, his cock trapped between him and the bed.  Tendrils of nervousness still ran through him though, a deep tension separate from that of his growing arousal.  He craved to feel Hannibal inside him, to know what it was like to envelope that part of him completely, to sense him pulsing and alive within him.  But, at the same time, there was the dread of the unknown.  His worries were unspecific—simply the looming apprehension of uncertainty—and the feeling warred with his _very_ explicit and unambiguous need.  The whole experience left his mind hazy and discombobulated, unable to focus.    

Hannibal’s lips had reached the base of his spine, and now Hannibal’s hands came to rest on the curves of his backside.  Will clenched again, and Hannibal stroked soothingly over the taut flesh.

“You are wound very tightly, Will,” Hannibal murmured, mouth brushing the mounds of his ass.  “Let us see if we can uncoil you.” 

Will’s shoulders tensed at Hannibal’s words, and he sucked in a breath as his cheeks were pulled apart.  There was a pause, and then something wet and warm flicked across his pucker.  Will frowned.  It hadn’t felt like a finger.  It had felt more like a— _oh_ _God_. 

That was all the thought he managed before he felt the thick curves of Hannibal’s lips settle round his hole, his tongue sliding out between them to lave at the wrinkled skin.  Will let out a strained moan, gripping the covers under him, because _fuck_ that felt good. 

“ _— **Fuck** , Jesus,_” Will blurted out, panting.  Hannibal actually _chuckled_ then, and _Christ_ he could feel it—the puff of air, the curl of lips, the twitching of Hannibal’s recently shaved cheeks against the inner walls of his cleft. 

“Such blasphemy,” Hannibal commented, clearly entertained, and then went right back to eating out Will’s ass. 

Will groaned and pushed back into Hannibal’s mouth, knees bending and as he shoved his ass up shamelessly.  Hannibal adjusted readily, taking him by the hips pressing his face between Will’s parted cheeks.  Will could barely tell what exactly he was doing, it was all just a blur of _hot_ and _wet,_ and _God_ he needed to come soon or he was going to physically combust. 

Hannibal continued to suck and lick over Will’s hole, even— _Jesus_ —wriggling the tip of his tongue inside the tight muscle.  Will let out a stream of expletives and didn’t stop, muttering a near constant parade of _shit_ , _fuck, Goddamn_ and _Jesus Christ_. 

There was a sigh from the man behind him.  “Is all that strictly necessary, Will?” Hannibal reprimanded lightly. 

Will turned and glared over his shoulder.  Hannibal was watching him with a smirk, one eyebrow arching with obvious merriment.  Will growled. 

“Yes, it is _fucking_ necessary,” he snarled.  “Now _shut_ up _,_ and put that _shit-_ eating grin back where it belongs.” 

Hannibal’s fingers twitched against Will’s hips and his face grew still.  His lips parted and his tongue licked over his bottom lip, a dark heat pouring from his eyes.  He didn’t move. 

With a low, frustrated growl from the back of his throat, Will reached back and snagged a fistful of Hannibal’s hair, physically pushing his face back down into Will’s ass.  Hannibal didn’t resist, and promptly resumed his ministrations.  Will groaned and threw back his head, his fingers tightening and tangling in Hannibal’s slick locks. 

“And for _fuck’s_ sake, put a hand on my cock already,” Will demanded for good measure, twisting his fist against Hannibal’s scalp.  There was a low rumble from Hannibal, and then a firm palm and clever fingers wrapped around Will’s throbbing shaft.  Will nearly wept with relief at the touch, and then gasped when Hannibal began stroking him.  “That’s it,” Will rasped, half-delirious.  “That’s it, sugar, just like that.” 

There was a stutter in Hannibal’s movements, and then he resumed, steady as ever.  Will bucked his hips, rocking between Hannibal’s mouth and fist as they drove him closer and closer to orgasm.  Then, Hannibal dragged his thumb over the tip of Will’s cock as he thrust his tongue into his hole, and Will was coming, hard, his frame shuddering as he spurted cum into Hannibal’s waiting hand. 

Will fell to the bed when he was finished, only then releasing his hold on Hannibal’s hair.  He rolled onto his back, panting, and stared blankly up at the ceiling. 

Hannibal knelt at the foot of the bed, hair mussed and chest heaving, an obvious erection trapped in his black designer briefs.  After a moment, Hannibal lifted his hand, now drenched in Will’s spunk, and slid the fluid through his fingers. 

“That,” Hannibal commented dryly, with a glance at Will from under hooded eyes. “Was very promising.” 

Will blinked, and then rolled his eyes back in his head.  “That was the cautious approach?” Will said with a huff.  Hannibal just smirked.  “Bastard,” Will accused, but he was smirking too.  “You know, if you’d made _that_ counter-offer, I wouldn’t’ve been nearly as put out,” Will scolded. 

Hannibal gave a little half-shrug, not looking the least bit abashed.  He was staring fixedly at the cum covering his hand, something almost wild in his gaze.  _Hunger_ , Will realized, and no sooner had he thought the word than Hannibal was bringing his hand to his open mouth. 

Hannibal’s eyes fluttered closed at the first taste, his whole body shuddering as his tongue pressed into the cum dripping down his wrist.  Greedily, he slurped up the evidence of Will’s orgasm, licking and sucking the skin of his palm and fingers.  He’d been happy enough to swallow his own cum before, but this was something else entirely.  He looked _rapturous_ , as though nothing else in the moment mattered, utterly lost in the experience as he was consumed by a near animalistic fervor. 

Will was torn between finding it incredibly erotic and being vaguely horrified at the wanton display of feral gluttony.  He settled on _erotic_ , his spent cock twitching determinedly against his thigh. 

“So, what’s phase two,” Will asked languidly as Hannibal sucked the last of his cum from between his fingers.  Hannibal arched an eyebrow at him.  “If that was phase one,” Will explained.  “In the…’cautious’ approach.  What’s phase two.” 

Hannibal made a soft _hmmm_ sound in the back of his throat.  “We needn’t rush through everything at once, Will,” Hannibal assured him gently.  “It might benefit us to take our time with this.” 

“Mm,” Will hummed.  “'Take things slow', you mean.” 

Hannibal gave a small nod.  “We're hardly pressed for time these days.  There's no need for haste.”

“Well,” Will drawled, arching a brow.  “There is _some_ need.”  He smirked, fixing Hannibal with a look.  “Mine, to be specific.” 

Hannibal took in a breath.  “Greedy boy,” he murmured darkly. 

“I don’t think _you’re_ in any position to be throwing that word around,” Will pointed out, nodding toward Hannibal’s now cum-free hand.  “Now,” he demanded firmly.  “What’s phase two.” 

Hannibal eyed him, expression unreadable, and then sighed.  “Lubricant?” He asked, all business. 

Will gestured to his bedside table, and Hannibal slid off the bed.  He opened the drawer and pulled out the bottle of lube Will had picked up on one of his drives into town.  His nose wrinkled.

“Oh, come on!” Will exclaimed, almost laughing.  “You’re seriously going to be a snob about _lube?_ ” 

Hannibal gave him an adamant look, head tilting slightly to one side.  “Mine is better.” 

Will let out a long groan. “ _Fine_ , go get yours, just be quick about it,” Will said, giving in.  Hannibal nodded, satisfied, and dropped the offending bottle heedlessly back into the drawer.  “Fucking princess,” Will muttered as Hannibal turned away, and laid a harsh, impulsive slap to his soft cotton-clothed backside. 

Hannibal froze, back stiffening, and Will had a moment of unease before Hannibal glanced over his shoulder.  His eyes were dark and unblinking, but there was a faint flush to his cheeks and his lips were parted.  He was panting very softly. 

“Hurry up,” Will teased, brows twitching.  Hannibal let out a sigh, and left without a word. 

Will laid back on the bed, threading his fingers together and resting his hands behind his head.  A smile played on his lips and he suddenly realized how at ease he felt.  He didn’t quite know what to think about that. 

Hannibal returned with his fancy-pants lube in hand, pausing at the foot of the bed to glance over Will’s lounging nakedness.  Will shifted slightly against the mattress, feeling more pleased than embarrassed at Hannibal’s lingering look. 

“Should I roll over?” Will asked, his voice low and teasing. 

Hannibal eyes snapped up and met Will’s, something sharp and multifaceted darting through them too fast for Will to catch.  He climbed onto the bed and laid down beside Will, turning Will onto his side with a hand at his hip so they were face to face.  He slipped a hand into the curls of Will’s hair and stared into his face with an intensity that had Will blushing despite himself. 

“May I kiss you?” Hannibal asked him. 

Will let out a bark of laughter.  “What?”  He asked, smiling, but confused.  Hannibal just watched him, waiting for an answer.  “…Of course,” Will said quietly. 

Hannibal drew their mouths together, and Will abruptly realized that this was the first time Hannibal had kissed _him_ , the first time he’d initiated this kind of contact.  Hannibal’s lips felt impossibly soft against his, their touch gently caressing and courteously undemanding. 

It was strange, in a way, to find Hannibal making so sweet a gesture, and Will found himself shuddering as arousal seemed to spark from the places where Hannibal touched him all the way through the rest of his body.  Will was intimately aware of the damage Hannibal’s hands could do, yet now his fingers trailed lightly through Will’s hair, tickling the skin at base of his neck.  He’d seen Hannibal rip a man’s throat out with his teeth, and now his mouth touched his own so tenderly, it was as though they might melt into each other. 

Hannibal slid his other hand down Will’s shoulder to his hip, and then further, tracing the arch of his backside before taking hold of the back of his thigh.  He drew Will’s leg up over his own hip, and Will felt himself moan into his mouth, his groin clenching. 

Hannibal pulled his mouth away, and Will groaned with disappointment.  Hannibal placed an apologetic kiss to his forehead, and took his hand from Will’s hair.  His other hand, Will noted, already had a palmful of lubricant, which he must have gotten while Will was distracted.  While Hannibal was distracting him, Will amended.  Hannibal rubbed his hands together—warming the lubricant, Will realized, with a stab of embarrassment, since he’d hardly shown Hannibal the same consideration. 

He’d hardly shown Hannibal _any_ consideration.  

“Are you trying to show me all the things I did wrong?” Will asked lightly, though his chest clenched a little. 

Hannibal lifted his gaze and blinked.  “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Will laughed, and it sounded a bit shrill. 

“Will,” Hannibal said seriously.  “You did exactly what was needed for us, in that moment.”  He held Will’s gaze, an imploring tint to his eyes.  “I am trying to do the same.” 

Upon hearing that, Will found himself blinking back the prickle of tears in his eyes, but he felt something in him relax.  “Okay,” he said, voice hoarse. 

Hannibal waited a moment, and then nodded.  He sighed softly, and met Will’s gaze again, this time with a question in his eyes. 

“I’m going to touch you now.” 

It wasn’t framed as asking permission, but he still waited until Will nodded before slipping his hand behind Will and sliding his slick fingers between his cheeks.  Will’s breath caught in his throat as he was touched there, the nerves of his delicate skin sending shivers up his spine.  Hannibal didn’t push, just rubbed gentle circles over his hole.  Maybe Hannibal’s earlier work with his mouth had left him sensitized, but in any case, Will found the sparks of pleasure running through him almost overwhelming. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he nearly whimpered, and buried his face in Hannibal’s chest.  Hannibal used his other arm to hold him closer, sliding his hand soothingly across Will’s back as he laid kisses along the side of his face.

Will was pressing back against Hannibal’s fingers now, that need inside him growing stronger and stronger.  Hannibal kept stroking, almost massaging over Will’s perineum, until the tip of one finger slipped inside, almost as though by accident.  Will went quiet, taking in the sensation of being penetrated for the first time. 

“Is that all right?” Hannibal asked him softly.  Will nodded. 

“Yeah,” he breathed.  “I just…” He smiled self-deprecatingly.  “Somehow imagined it would be a bit more cataclysmic.” 

Hannibal smiled back at him.  “It feels fine, then?”

“Yes,” Will replied readily, almost laughing. 

“No pain?” Hannibal checked again, making sure. 

“Definitely not,” Will assured him. 

Hannibal nodded, relaxing a bit.  “Tell me if there’s any discomfort.” 

He pressed the single digit slowly inside, and Will let out a slow sigh. 

“Still no pain?”  Hannibal asked.

“No,” Will mumbled dreamily into Hannibal’s shoulder.  “No, feels good.”

Hannibal made a contented sound, and began easing his finger in and out.  Will wrapped his arm around Hannibal’s back, so they were holding each other in a kind of half-embrace, and let himself hum and moan as Hannibal worked his finger inside him, sometimes stroking his prostate, sometimes tugging gently on the rim of his hole, sometimes just thrusting smoothly in and out.  After a time, he withdrew, and Will made a small noise of disapproval. 

“Just a moment,” Hannibal assured him, and deftly acquired more lube.   He slid his first finger back into Will’s hole and held it there.  “I’m going to add another.”  Will nodded sleepily against his chest. 

Hannibal maneuvered a second finger in beside the first, pushing in just to the first knuckle.  Will winced, and Hannibal paused immediately. 

“Okay,” Will admitted. “That stings a bit.” 

Hannibal nodded, taking in that information.  “Shall we stop?”

Will grunted, shaking his head.  “No, no, I don’t want to stop; keep going, it just…might not go as easy as the first.”

There was a pause.  “Very well.”  He pressed the second lubed finger further inside.  Will winced again.  “Tell me if you change your mind.” 

“I’m fine, I don’t want to stop,” Will said stubbornly.  “Stop asking.” 

Hannibal hummed disapprovingly, but kept going.  He slid the two fingers in and out, which felt slightly better as Will’s body got used to it.  Then, he spread his fingers apart, stretching the tight muscle, and Will let out a grunt, his fingers digging into Hannibal’s back. 

“It’s better not to focus on the pain,” Hannibal advised.  He clearly wanted to ask if Will wanted to stop again, but was refraining. 

“Just block it out, you mean?” Will said with a frustrated sigh. 

There was a pause.  “Perhaps it might help to have a distraction.”

“Like what?” Will asked, wincing again, wondering what could possibly be distracting enough to keep his mind off the two fingers stretching his ass. 

Hannibal rolled Will onto his back, his fingers still inside him.  Will grunted, and then eyed the mop of Hannibal’s hair as the man slid down the length of Will’s body.  He knelt between Will’s legs, eyes fixed on Will’s lower belly.  After a moment, he placed the palm of his free hand over the scar there, and lifted his head to meet Will’s eyes.  A moment passed between them, and Hannibal lowered his eyes again, this time his gaze migrating even further down. 

Will’s cock caught on before he did, giving an excited twitch, and then Hannibal’s mouth enveloped him, taking him almost to the root in one go.  Will let out a hissing gasp, eyes snapping shut as his hips bucked upward.  Hannibal took the motion, adjusting his angle smoothly, and Will felt the tip of his cock slide down the back of Hannibal’s throat.  Will made a sort of gurgling noise, and then let out a desperate shout as Hannibal’s lips closed tight around the base of his cock and his cheeks sucked in around the shaft. 

 _“ **FUCK**!_ ”

On some level, Will had always figured Hannibal would be incredible at this.  It might have been the first overtly sexual thought he’d ever had about him, all the way back before he’d known what the man really was, when his mind had wandered during one of their early conversations and he’d thought, ‘Yep, that man probably gives amazing head.’  But there was accepting that as a likely fact, and then there was _feeling_ the proof of it around his cock. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Will muttered, breathless.  He forced his eyes to blink open so he could look down at the man between his thighs, and then _moaned_ raggedly at the sight of Hannibal’s lips stretched around him.  Then Hannibal began moving, sliding his lips up and down Will’s shaft, and Will moaned again, the image and sensation working together to overwhelm him.  At the same time, Hannibal fingers were still working inside him.  They worked in time to the clenching and releasing of Will’s inner muscles as Hannibal sucked, taking his moments of relaxation to continue stretching him open.  It still hurt, a bit, but the ache of it was all but drowned out by the intense pleasure provided by Hannibal’s mouth. 

“Fuck,” Will said again, reaching down to push Hannibal’s hair from his face.  Now with an even better view, Will shuddered, thrusting up into Hannibal’s mouth, which Hannibal let him do with ease.  “Lookit that whore mouth,” Will murmured.  Hannibal twitched slightly at his words and glanced up, dark eyes gleaming up at Will hungrily over his hollowed cheeks.  Will shivered.  “You gonna swallow me down, Hannibal?  Gonna _gorge_ on me till you _choke_?”  He put a hand to the back of Hannibal’s neck.  “ _Ravenous_ _whore_.”    

Hannibal mewled then, the sound muffled behind Will’s cock, and panted wetly around the intrusion.  A sudden feeling of authority flooded through Will like a drug, and, intoxicated by it, Will shoved Hannibal’s head down, forcing himself further down the man’s throat.  There was a hitching sound as Hannibal gulped around him.  His nose was pressed into the hairs at the base of Will’s cock, and Hannibal breathed in deeply, then let out a euphoric sounding moan from around the gag of Will’s flesh. 

Hannibal slipped a third finger into Will’s hole and Will barely blinked, just sighed contentedly and squeezed around Hannibal’s digits with his ass.  As he unclenched, Hannibal stretched out his fingers and Will groaned, thighs splaying wantonly, the dull throb of it edging over and bleeding into more pleasurable sensations.  He could feel himself opening, unfurling around Hannibal’s carefully insistent probing, and it sent a thrill shooting through him to think of Hannibal touching something deep inside him that no one ever had before. 

Then Hannibal pressed the pads of his fingers into Will’s prostate and Will nearly arched off the bed.

There was a strangled cry, which Will knew must be from him, and his pelvis quaked, jerking errantly as Hannibal stroked and kneaded that spot inside him.  Once again, he found himself trapped shuddering between Hannibal’s mouth and hands, endless spinning pleasure flinging him apart from his sense and reason. 

“Don’t you dare stop, don’t you fucking dare stop,” Will said through clenched teeth, though Hannibal had shown no sign of stopping.  A low keening erupted from his throat, and then Will felt a bright bursting in his lower stomach that spiraled out through his body like sparking electrical currents.  Hannibal’s throat worked and pulsed around him, swallowing the seed that shot out of his cock, while Will dug his nails into Hannibal’s scalp and held him latched there to his shaft with unyielding force.  Finally, Will collapsed against the bed, his limbs falling limp and drained around him as he gasped drunkenly for air. 

Will looked down, eyes bleary, and watched as Hannibal drew his lips slowly off the length of his spent cock till the head fell from his swollen mouth.  Hannibal’s eyes were closed, and he tilted his head with a soft hum as he hovered over Will’s groin, nostrils twitching while his tongue licked languidly across the flesh of his lips.  His fingers now fluttered gently along the soft skin and thin hairs of Will’s inner thighs and buttocks.  After a moment, he crawled up and over Will’s legs and rolled onto his back.  His chest rose and fell as he panted lightly beside Will, his face aglow with a faint sheen of sweat. 

“So,” Will said vaguely.  “What’s phase three.” 

Hannibal’s eyelids fluttered, his lashes brushing against his cheeks. 

“I think,” Hannibal replied.  “It would behoove us both to rest for a time.” 

“Right,” Will nodded, breathless.  “Rest.”  He looked over at the man beside him, his mind unusually and decidedly blank.  “I think you just sucked my brains out through my cock.” 

Hannibal’s lips twitched.  “And they were delicious.”

Will snorted, a fit of giggles spilling out of him.  “Maybe you should have tried that method back in Florence,” he snickered, suddenly imagining a very different dinner scene but with an equally horrified Jack Crawford. 

“Maybe I should have,” Hannibal agreed, smiling.  He said it with good-humor, but there was a mournful edge of sincerity beneath the joke. 

 _We weren’t ready_ , Will thought silently.  _Neither of us_. 

He glanced down at the visible bulge in Hannibal’s shorts, and slid a finger lightly up his thigh. 

“Hmm,” Will hummed, playing with the hem of Hannibal’s briefs.  “Would you like me to help you with this before I fall into a post-orgasmic coma?” 

“That’s…considerate, but unnecessary,” Hannibal assured him smoothly.

“It’s not _that_ considerate,” Will commented mildly.  “I’ve already come twice.” 

“Believe me, I enjoyed all that as much as you did,” Hannibal said with coy look. 

“I _really_ doubt that,” Will drawled, sending his own steamy look back and letting his fingers tighten around Hannibal’s thigh.  Hannibal’s breath hitched in his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.  Smirking wickedly, Will leaned in and brushed his lips against Hannibal’s earlobe.  There was a satisfying shiver in response, and Will pitched his voice to low and husky as he breathed into Hannibal’s ear.

“Wouldn’t you like me to touch you, Hannibal?”

There was a shaky breath, and then Hannibal turned his face toward him. 

“Of course,” Hannibal said, barely above a whisper.  “Always.”  He met Will’s eyes.  “But only if you wish to.” 

Will’s eyes narrowed, and a sudden burst of energy flooded through him.  Shoving down on Hannibal’s shoulders, Will pushed himself up to sitting, looming dangerously over the other man.

“‘ _If_ I wish to?’” he mocked, and ran his hands roughly down Hannibal’s torso.  He hooked his fingers under the waistband of Hannibal’s underwear and _yanked_ them down below the man’s hips.  Hannibal hissed between his teeth, arching slightly off the bed as the fabric scraped over his erection and buttocks.  Will dragged the suddenly irritating garment down Hannibal’s thighs and shins, till he was finally able to pull them off his feet and throw them venomously across the room. 

“Shut up and spread your legs.” 

Will hadn’t meant it to come out quite so growling and harsh, but Hannibal’s resulting shudder and clenching thighs had him smiling toothily anyway.  His gleeful expression darkened into something more heated and self-satisfied as Hannibal quietly pulled his knees up and out, holding himself open with his hands with a look to Will that seemed to say, ‘My body is yours.  Do what you will.’ 

Will’s groin tightened, but two rather fierce orgasms had left him utterly spent, so he remained sadly flaccid for the time being.  That was fine, since he was much more interested in making Hannibal come than coming again himself just now anyway. 

Coating his hands in lube, Will took the trouble to rub his palms together to warm them first, and then took Hannibal’s cock into his fist.  Hannibal breathed in sharply, and then did so again as Will slid two slick fingers between his cheeks and pressed them to his puckered hole.  He could see the signs of the pounding Hannibal had taken, the area in question appearing raw and slightly inflamed.  It looked sore, and no doubt was, but Will didn’t let that deter him from stroking firmly over Hannibal’s exposed entrance.  There was a muffled grunting groan from behind Hannibal’s teeth, and he hands clenched around where he held his own thighs. 

“Should I be gentle with you?” Will asked mildly, glancing up to catch Hannibal’s gaze. 

Hannibal’s darkly hooded eyes stared back, unflinching.  “What do you think.”

Will smirked, and with a twist of his wrist pushed both fingers in to the second knuckle.  Hannibal head twisted to one side, his eyes closing for just a moment before opening again, nostrils flaring.  Will pressed in deeper and felt Hannibal clench around him, his breath coming out unevenly even as his hips tilted up into Will’s invading hand. 

“I did this to you before, you know,” Will commented idly as he began stroking Hannibal’s cock.  It jerked against his palm in time to the fingers thrusting in and out of Hannibal’s ass.  “Made you come all over yourself, just like this.”  He crooked his fingers to fondle Hannibal’s prostate, and Hannibal trembled delightfully in response, his pelvis twitching prettily in Will’s hands.

“And was I sufficiently—” Hannibal paused, holding back a groan.  “—amusing to you in that state?”    

Will smiled to himself.  “Yes,” he replied.  “It was riveting.  I felt like I had you wrapped around my little finger.”  He wiggled the fingers he currently had buried in Hannibal’s ass to drive home the point.  Hannibal held back another groan, neck straining. 

“I would say you still do,” Hannibal observed wryly, though his voice was a little too breathless to capture his usual sardonic wit.

Will’s smile widened, and he reflected to himself on how this was even more fun now that Hannibal was aware of what was being done to him—to see him fighting to keep his composure even as he allowed Will to pick it apart, bit by bit.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Will said with a fiendish chuckle.  “I’m _definitely_ liking this better.” 

Will pulled back on Hannibal’s foreskin with his thumb and teased the revealed head with his nail, prompting a kind of desperate keen as Hannibal bit down on his lip to hold back what sounded like a whimper.  He shoved a third finger in and Hannibal let out a gurgle as his head flew back, neck arching as he bared his throat, and then he was coming, spilling hotly over Will’s fist and onto his stomach. 

“There,” Will said smugly, wiping the cum from his hand onto the curve of Hannibal’s butt-cheek—the underside bit that was still pink from being spanked.  “Isn’t that more comfortable?” 

He flopped down beside Hannibal on the bed, wiping the rest of his hands on the sheets as Hannibal let out a sigh, lowering his legs and stretching them out in front of him.

“‘ _Comfortable’_ may not be the word,” Hannibal remarked blithely.  “But, I am appreciative.”  He turned his head to face Will and took one of Will’s hands in his own, lifting it to his lips and brushing them against Will’s fingers.  “You have very capable hands, Will,” Hannibal murmured into his knuckles.  “It would be a privilege for anyone to be touched by them.” 

Will felt a flutter in his chest.  It was always both baffling and awing the way Hannibal could say something like that and make it sound like nothing more than the simple truth.  He wondered briefly if Randall Tier would agree with Hannibal’s assessment—although now that he thought about it, Hannibal had probably had that exact sort of situation in mind when he’d said it.  Will felt another flutter in his chest, this one manifesting into a full-blown shiver through his frame.

He felt all at once very sleepy, and he tugged at the covers under him, slipping underneath.  Hannibal did the same, and Will immediately pressed his body against his, wrapping an arm over his torso and laying his head against his chest.  Hannibal cradled him with one arm around his shoulders, setting his nose against the crown of Will’s head and breathing deep.  There was a dull, muted ache inside where Hannibal’s fingers had stretched him, and Will felt a foolish and tactless kind of sentimentality at the thought that they matched in that way. 

“I still want you inside of me,” Will murmured drowsily, eyes already closed. 

Hannibal was quiet.  “Rest, Will,” he said after a moment, fingers carding through Will’s hair.  “We have all the time in the world, now.” 

Will smiled dreamily against Hannibal’s warm skin.  “That’s right,” he mumbled, as odd, half-formed visions of red juices and antlered skulls danced across his mind.  He tilted his face, eyes still closed, till his lips brushed against Hannibal’s throat.  “‘Cause I ate the whole damn pomegranate.”          

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just me promising that that Will DOES in fact get buggered in the next chapter, I swear. Hannibal was just very insistent on Will's ass getting the love and attention it deserves, okay? :-D


	2. Intrare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Enter.

Will woke up in an empty bed—again—with the sound of a shower running—again.  For a second he thought maybe it was still the morning and he’d just been dreaming, but a look towards the clock showed that it was around four in the afternoon.  He ruminated on the fact that he’d spent most of the day in bed so far, and found himself smiling. 

He looked over towards the bathroom, its door partially ajar, and then at the door leading to the hallway, the memory of waking up that morning buzzing around his skull.  He wavered for a moment.  Then, decidedly, he got up and walked through the bathroom door.

Hannibal had one of those big fancy walk-in showers and Will could see him through the clear glass of the door.  He was faced away from him and towards the spray raining down on his face.  He looked clean, polished even, having already scrubbed himself thoroughly, cleansing away all the signs of their previous activities from his skin.  Although, Will noted, taking in the bruising on his hips and thighs, some evidence was not so easily washed away. 

When he pushed open the shower door and stepped inside, Hannibal’s only response was to turn his head to look half-way over his shoulder.  Will slid his hands around Hannibal’s waist, marveling at how natural it felt, and pressed his lips to the back of Hannibal’s damp shoulder.  Hannibal sighed, relaxing into his arms, and then turned round so they were face to face.  Will leaned in and took Hannibal’s bottom lip between his teeth, worrying it gently while his lips drew over it in a soft kiss.  His fingers danced lightly up Hannibal’s spine, marking where his scars were, and then tracing his own, secret, invisible markings along the canvas of his skin. 

They kissed and touched tenderly, unhurriedly, washing each other and enjoying the warmth and comfort of it without the tension of burning need and lust. 

“Did you wash your hair this morning?” Hannibal asked him mildly.

“ _No_ ,” Will informed him with a smirk, trying not to feel like child being reminded to brush his teeth and wash behind his ears. 

“May I?” Hannibal requested, and it was with such demure and heartfelt hope that it was suddenly impossible to view it as paternalistic. 

Will still felt a bit odd and bashful about it, but he nodded. 

Hannibal switched their places and coaxed Will to lean his head back into the warm spray of the shower.  Will sighed and closed his eyes, letting the soothing drops of clear water fall across his face.  Then, Hannibal was pulling him back, his strong hands kneading and combing suds through Will’s hair.  A light woody scent filled his nose and Will hummed happily as Hannibal worked the pads of his fingers along Will’s scalp.  They were still face to face and Hannibal stole kisses as he went, using his hands in Will’s hair to pull his face close and hold him there. 

When he’d finished and rinsed the shampoo from Will’s damp locks, Will opened his eyes.  He found Hannibal gazing at him with undisguised adoration, which was mostly alarming only because of how familiar Will realized that particular look was to him.  He’d convinced himself that such an emotion was impossible for a man like Hannibal, and so he’d never let himself see it clearly before.  Now it was so excruciatingly obvious that Will felt a kind of pang for all those other moments he’d missed—or if not missed, never quite understood.

“Now what should we do,” Will murmured suggestively as Hannibal turned off the spray of the shower, a warmth spreading through his lower belly. 

“I thought I’d clean up the kitchen, and then prepare us some supper,” Hannibal said sensibly.  Will groaned. 

“I have a better idea,” he rumbled, slipping his arms around Hannibal’s neck.  “We forget about the kitchen, go back to bed, and fuck like rabbits till we pass out.”

Hannibal _hmm_ ed.  “Tempting.  But I think you’ll change your mind in an hour or so when you find yourself quite hungry.” 

Will grumbled, but capitulated.  “Man cannot live on sex alone, I suppose.” 

“No,” Hannibal agreed.  “Though I appreciate your willingness to try.” 

Will chuckled.  “Fine.  We’ll clean.  We’ll cook.  We’ll eat.  _Then,_ we’ll go back to bed and fuck like rabbits.  _Comprend_ _é_?”

“Lo que digas, mi amor,” Hannibal answered, the words rolling off his tongue like water. 

“Damn straight,” Will said, though his tongue felt thick.  His Spanish was only passable, but that had been simple enough for him to understand. 

Hannibal regarded him curiously, the corners of his lips curving ever so slightly into a smile.  The moment stretched, and then he leaned in to press their lips together, his hand coming to rest delicately at the curve of Will’s jaw.  The kiss was long and soft, Hannibal’s mouth like velvet against his own, the taste of him clean and clear and uncomplicated by any other tastes that might have overlaid it before—just salted skin and the gentle dark musk of living flesh.  Then he pulled away and stepped out of the shower, leaving Will to follow after once his head had stopped spinning. 

 

They dressed, and then Will helped with the washing up.  He helped with preparing supper too.  Hannibal kept things refreshingly simple; it still _looked_ like something you’d order at a four-star restaurant, but the preparation wasn’t all that complicated.  There was a selection of various crostini topped with different smoked meats and fish, some crunchy vegetables wrapped in leafy greens, and dark colored grapes served still on the vine with cheese and honey melted right into the clusters. 

It was mostly finger-food, and Will managed to convince Hannibal to forgo setting the table and instead eat sitting together on the sofa in the library instead.  Hannibal made a show of protest, but gave in easily, and when Will ended up lying with his head in Hannibal lap while Hannibal fed him bites from his plate, he could imagine why.  Feeling sated and decidedly lazy, Will sucked honey from Hannibal’s fingertips and let a low-burning arousal warm his belly. 

“All right,” Will said, sitting up once their plates were picked clean.  He straddled Hannibal on the couch and slavered him with a wet, sticky kiss.  “Bed.  Now.” 

Hannibal hummed agreeably, leaning into him.  “Yes,” he said.  “I just need to wash these first.”

He gestured to their dishes.  Will let out another groan. 

“For fuck’s sake, Hannibal, leave the plates,” Will said, exasperated. 

“If I go upstairs with you now, they’ll be left overnight,” Hannibal pointed out. 

 _So?_ Was a tempting response, but Will just sighed and took Hannibal’s face between is hands.  “Okay.  Fine.  Put your kitchen in order.  _I’m_ going upstairs.”  He fixed Hannibal with a stern look.  “Don’t take too long.” 

There was an answering spark in the crimson flecks in Hannibal’s eyes, and he nodded.  “You will have me at your disposal again in short order, I assure you.”

Will’s cock twitched in response to Hannibal’s words, their simple ardor and earnestness enough to fan the flames flickering under Will’s skin. 

“ _Good_.”

 

Will went back up to his bedroom and, after a second’s pause, stripped out of his clothes.  He plopped down on top of the tangled sheets of the bed and stretched out, lounging comfortably naked as he waited for Hannibal.  A minute or two ticked by, and Will found his eye wandering to the bottle of lube on the nightstand. 

There was a moment’s indecision, and then he snatched up the bottle and pumped some slick onto his fingers.  He laid down with a pillow under his neck, and bent up one knee, his other leg splaying out loosely to one side on the bed.  Experimentally, he dabbed his lubed fingers against his hole, noting how his pucker twitched and his lower belly clenched with aroused anticipation. 

With a deep breath, he slid one finger inside.  It went easily, and he groaned, eyelids fluttering closed at the welcome intrusion.  He immediately began working it in and out, enjoying the smoothness of the sensation.  He added a second finger, and there was no painful stretch this time, just a pleasurable fullness.  His hips angled up onto his fingers as he thrust them in together, pushing up off of the bed with his foot.  He crooked his fingers, and gasped at the sharp burst of pleasure that flared inside him. 

His cock lay full and hard against his stomach, but he left it alone, not wanting this to be over too quickly.  Instead, he put his free hand behind his head and inserted a third finger.   A deep, guttural moan tore out of him, as the sheer sensuality of sinking three of his own fingers down to the third knuckle inside himself was almost too much to bear.  He slid them out and in again, out and in, his hand arching along his perineum.  He’d masturbated before, obviously, but jerking off had never felt this hedonistic or indulgent.  He found he wasn’t in any rush to reach orgasm, but felt quite content to remain in this blurred heat for the foreseeable future. 

He heard the click of the door as it opened, and bit on the inner corners of his mouth to keep from grinning.  He kept his eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the door being shut, to the soft, nearly imperceptible _tap tap tap_ s of shoes against the floor.  Then, there was silence, but it was a present one—one that could in no way be mistaken for evidence of an empty room. 

Will opened his eyes. He left them hooded, but looked out into the room and found Hannibal standing at the foot of the bed, silent and unmoving.  Watching.  Will continued to work in fingers in and out of his hole, glaring lowly at the man looking down at him.  Hannibal’s eyes glinted like pools of wine reflecting candlelight. 

“I got tired of waiting,” Will declared huskily, arching provocatively into his hand.

Hannibal’s eyes flickered up, meeting Will’s, the look in them hot and hungry.  “Impatient boy.” 

Will shivered against the covers, cock jerking.  “Take off your clothes.”  Hannibal just eyed him, his expression even and faintly amused.  “ _Now_ , Hannibal,” Will growled. 

Hannibal head tilted slightly, and then he let out a sigh, his fingers lifting to the top button of his shirt.  Will sucked in a breath as Hannibal disrobed.  His movements were all elegant efficiency, fabric slipping from his skin like the rind of a perfectly peeled fruit to reveal the succulent flesh underneath. 

“Now get over here,” Will grunted, while Hannibal was still pulling his underwear down his legs.  Hannibal lifted an eyebrow, hands folding the cotton shorts into a square before setting them on dresser with the rest of his clothes.  He stalked towards the bed, shoulders rippling as he climbed onto the mattress. 

“Demanding,” Hannibal murmured, placing a hand under Will’s knee.  “Petulant,” he went on, putting his other hand under Will’s other knee— “ _Greedy_ boy.”  --And _pulled_ , bringing Will down toward him with his legs spread and bent on either side.  Will smirked, his cock twitching as Hannibal spoke, not feeling in the least bit abashed by his words. 

“Don’t even pretend to be complaining,” Will drawled.

Knelt between Will’s legs, Hannibal slid his hands over them.  He glanced up towards Will.  “I wasn’t.”  Bending and turning his head, he pressed his lips to Will’s inner thigh, inhaling.  “I like you telling me what you want.”  Will’s cock jerked again, Hannibal’s breath ghosting across his sensitive skin.  Hannibal smiled.  “Particularly when it’s done with such force and…urgency.” 

With that, he gently coaxed Will’s fingers from his hole and replaced them with his own.  Will groaned wantonly, legs splaying wider as Hannibal’s thick fingers entered him. 

“Fuck, that feels good,” he mumbled, absently wiping his hand on the covers next to him. 

Hannibal laid another kiss to his thigh, further up, and hummed, pushing his fingers slowly in to the hilt.  The movement was solid, steady, fiercely deliberate, and for the first time Will really began to picture Hannibal’s cock sliding into him—stretching him, filling him, settling deep inside.  A shiver tore through his body and his ass clamped down hard around Hannibal’s fingers, his eyes falling closed and mouth falling open as for a moment he was caught up in his imagination.

There was a touch of softness to his cock—lips, he realized, blinking his eyes and working to focus them—and then a puff of warm air as Hannibal’s mouth opened around the head. 

In an instant, Will’s hand was in Hannibal’s hair, yanking him back with adrenaline fueled strength.  Hannibal grunted, head snapping back and eyes closing in a flinch. 

“No no no,” Will admonished, shaking his head.  “I know what that mouth can do.”  He pulled Hannibal by the hair, dragging him up the length of his body.  Hannibal braced one hand on the bed and let himself be pulled up till they were face to face.  “And I want to come with you inside me.”

Hannibal let out a deep breath, looking down at Will with burning eyes.  “So eager,” he rumbled.  He sighed again.  “But as I’ve said, we don’t have to rush to this all at once, Will.  You—”

“Hannibal,” Will said sharply, cutting him off.  “If I don’t get your cock in me by the end of today, I swear to God…”  He trailed off. 

Hannibal’s eyes flickered, like flames.  “What, Will?  What do you swear?”  He murmured darkly.  He leaned in close till his lips nearly brushed Will’s cheek.  “If you do not have your way, what will you do?”  His voice lowered even further.  “How will you make me pay for my failure to please you?”    

Will felt an uncomfortable knot form below his sternum.  “I…I didn’t…” he said quietly, face heating.  “I wasn’t…”

“You weren’t threatening to punish me for denying you?”  Hannibal asked dryly. 

Will tasted something sour in the back of his throat.  “No.” 

Hannibal looked pensive.  “Why not?”  Will’s jaw clenched.  His chest felt tight.  “Why shouldn’t you?” 

Will let out a shaky breath.  “B..because,” he said, rasping.  “Because…” 

“Would you enjoy punishing me in that way?” Hannibal pressed on, ignoring Will’s stuttering.  “Or perhaps, simply knowing that you could, should you feel the need?” 

Will pressed his lips together, silent.  His cock was throbbing. 

“I would,” Hannibal murmured, right up against Will’s ear.  “I would never deny you anything, Will.  I will always strive to please you.  I require no threats to motivate me.  But,” he breathed, the air from his mouth hot on Will’s face.  “To know how far you would be willing to go…to feel the weight of your pendulum above me head, even knowing it would never lower, that…” He inhaled, eyelids lowering.  “… _excites_ me.” 

“You like my violence,” Will croaked, feeling shaken.  “Even when it’s directed at you.” 

Hannibal blinked down at him.  “Yes.”

A shiver ran through Will, terrifying and thrilling. 

“How far would you let me go?” Will whispered, his voice weak with a kind of horrified wonder.

Hannibal smiled, but didn’t answer.  “What would you do?” He asked again instead, gazing at Will from under hooded eyes. 

“I…I wouldn’t…” Will stammered weakly. 

“What do you imagine doing?” Hannibal amended smoothly.  Will didn’t respond.  His own breathing sounded loud and harsh in his ears.  The silence stretched, and then Hannibal leaned in, holding the back of Will’s head in one hand and pressing them cheek to cheek.  “Tell me,” he murmured, the breath tickling Will’s ear.  “‘If I don’t get your cock in me’,” he recited, and Will gasped as Hannibal twisted the fingers inside him.  “‘By the end of today, I swear to _God_ …” In Hannibal’s mouth it sounded like an oath, a prayer, an invocation. 

Will’s eyes flickered closed.  Images played across his mind, bright and vibrant.  He saw himself.  He saw Hannibal.  He saw skin stained red, and a deep, purplish black. 

His snapped open.  There was the taste of copper in his mouth.    

“I swear to God,” Will repeated, almost choking.  “I will take one of those fancy leather belts of yours,” he rasped against the curve of Hannibal’s ear, palm cradling the base of his skull.  “And beat your ass till it _bleeds_.”

As the last word left his mouth, Will’s groin clenched and he bit back a groan.  At the same time, there was a quiver from Hannibal, just the slightest tremor through his frame, and Will felt eyelashes brush his cheek as Hannibal’s eyelids fluttered.  Will threaded his fingers through the hairs at the back of Hannibal’s head and pulled him back so he could see his face. 

Will had half expected to see that familiar satisfied smirk, his eyes victorious and ruthlessly knowing.  But Hannibal’s lips were parted softly and his eyes were dark with lustful hunger—and something deeper.  Something more ruined.

_See.  This is all I ever wanted._

Will shuddered, past and present blurring in his mind.  He inhaled hard through his nose, and locked his eyes with Hannibal’s, his gaze hot and sharply piercing.

“Now, _fuck_ me.”  Will’s voice came out steady and strong, even as his pulse quickened. 

Hannibal’s eyes lowered, and he nodded, silent.  Letting out a breath, he tilted his head to one side in a kind of shaking flinch.  He closed his mouth and swallowed, clearly fighting for control.  Then he lowered his mouth to Will’s.  He stopped, just short of touching, reeling back in a last second hesitation. 

Will lifted his head and closed the distance, sliding their lips together and slipping his tongue between them.  Hannibal fell into him then, a pained moan dripping from his mouth.  A droplet of wetness splashed against Will’s cheek just under his eye and spilled down the side of his face.

Hannibal drew his fingers from Will’s hole, moving his hand to grasp Will’s thigh.  Will pulled up his knees, hugging Hannibal’s sides tightly with his legs.  The first brush of the tip of Hannibal’s cock along his cleft sent shivers running up Will’s spine.  Their lips still locked together, Hannibal aligned himself and, with a slow, steady push, glided into Will with careful precision.  They both gasped as Hannibal entered him, and Hannibal paused part-way inside, pulling away from their kiss, his eyes closed and mouth panting wetly.  Will took his face in both hands and kissed his parted lips, his chest heaving with shuddering breaths, the feel of Hannibal’s cock heavy within him. 

Wrapping his arms about Hannibal’s neck, his fingers clawing at the back of his shoulders, Will pulled and, with an answering thrust from Hannibal, brought Hannibal fully inside him.  Will groaned as Hannibal’s hips hit him, hooking his heels around Hannibal’s back to pull him closer.  They both shuddered, and Will closed his eyes, nuzzling into the curve of Hannibal’s neck.  He could feel Hannibal trembling, just a bit, like the vibration of a tuning fork after it had been struck. 

Hannibal’s cock pulsed within him—like living velvet, like marble warmed by blood and breath.  Holding Hannibal inside him felt like taking hot iron in his bare hands without being burned, and Will felt a heady surge of power crackle through him. 

“ _Move_.”

Without a word, Hannibal drew out of him like a rushing tide, a sighing breath blowing against Will’s face, and then plunged back in with a steady and forceful snap of his hips.  Will let out a harsh cry as Hannibal struck his prostate with frightful accuracy, and then another when Hannibal repeated the motion.  Hannibal’s thrusts were strong but not rough, tender but not gentle—treating Will as something precious, but not delicate. 

No.  Not delicate. 

Will groaned as Hannibal worked inside him, the sound almost morphing into a growl.  There was a growing pressure building within him, like a fire burning hotter and hotter in a locked room, the flames desperate to burst out and consume all that surrounded it.  He snarled into Hannibal’s shoulder, and then bit down, whimpering.  His fingernails dragged ruthlessly across Hannibal’s upper back as he stifled a raging howl from the back of his throat. Hannibal grunted, and then moaned softly, rolling his hips into Will in a kind of reverent offering.  Will bit down harder, whining pitifully around the flesh in his mouth. 

He pulled back a moment later, dropping his head against the pillow behind him, afraid he’d draw blood if he wasn’t careful.  Hannibal stopped his movements, pausing while buried inside Will, and Will felt the burning energy inside him grow even more constrained.  He mewled, tears forming in his eyes, digging his fingers into the flesh of Hannibal’s shoulders. 

Hannibal look down at him, questioning.  His face was damp.  Will just shook his head helplessly. 

“I…I can’t—” Will croaked, breaking off in a throaty gasp. 

Hannibal held a palm to his face, stroking Will’s cheek with his thumb.  There was a glimmer of concern in his eyes.  “What is it?” he murmured, a quiet, desperate urgency in his voice. 

Will could only shake his head again, his eyes squeezing closed as he fought to breath.

“I…I nee—I need…” Will managed finally, blinking fiercely. 

“What?” Hannibal asked, plaintive, his eyes searching Will’s face for the answer.  “What do you need?  Tell me.” 

Will closed his eyes again, teeth clenched and face twisting.  He wasn’t even sure he knew, let alone how to go about answering.

“Or…” Hannibal said quietly.  “Or, take it.”  Will opened his eyes and looked up.  Hannibal’s eyes gazed back at him, clear and nakedly black.  The hand at his cheek caressed his skin softly.  “Whatever you need,” Hannibal said again, his voice dripping with pure devotion.  “ _Take it_.” 

Will groaned behind his teeth.  He felt a tremor travel through him, and that something in him tightened painfully.  Then, with a snarling breath, he squeezed his legs around Hannibal’s waist and bucked upwards, flipping them over.  Hannibal landed flat on his back, and Will closed his eyes, moaning deeply at the sensation of Hannibal still buried inside him in this new position.  He braced his hands on Hannibal’s chest and lifted up on his knees, slamming back down hard enough to make them both grunt. Will threw his head back in relief, as all that energy boiling inside him finally had a place to go now that he was the one moving.  Now that he was in control.   

He heard a hiss from Hannibal, and he bit back a smile.  Blearily, he opened his eyes to look down at the man under him.  Hannibal stared up at him, eyes wide.  His chest rose and fell with shuddering breaths.  Gulping, Hannibal brought his hands to the sides of Will’s legs, hooking his fingers gently round the back of his knees.  Supporting him, Will realized.  This time, Will didn’t bother to stop himself from grinning. 

He stroked his palms over the planes of Hannibal’s chest, and then _squeezed_ in around the cock inside him.  Hannibal’s fingers tightened, his breath hitching for just a second.  Will licked his lips, happily lascivious, and bent to suck Hannibal’s nipple into his mouth, pulling off a moment later with a light tug with his teeth.  He tossed his head back, sweat pouring down his neck, and then rose up just a little.  Hannibal sucked in and held his breath.  Will smirked. 

Will let himself go, then, completely, releasing all the building fire that had been growing inside him.  He fucked himself aggressively, pounding down on Hannibal’s cock over and over.  His muscles strained at the exertion, but he didn’t care, it felt too good to have Hannibal between his thighs, to take his cock inside him, to envelope him so utterly and entirely. 

Hannibal looked wrecked, and that felt good too. 

Will began thinking about moving one hand to his cock, moaning as he imagined jerking himself off and coming all over Hannibal’s chest.  The fingers of his right hand twitched, and Will found his eye caught by their placement—how if he stretched them out he could just reach Hannibal’s clavicle.  His eyes drifted further, to Hannibal’s throat, and Will swallowed thickly.  Without really thinking, he spread his hand, placing the arch between his thumb and fingers along the two bones that framed Hannibal’s trachea. 

He stopped moving, settling firmly onto Hannibal’s hips.  He imagined he could almost feel the beating pulse of Hannibal’s heartbeat through the cock buried inside him.  He wet his lips, eyes fixed and unblinking. 

Then, slowly, Hannibal lifted a hand and wrapped it around Will’s wrist.  Firm and unhesitating, he brought Will’s hand to his throat and held it there.  Will’s eyes flicked up, his heart hammering in his chest.  Hannibal stared back evenly, unflinching.  His eyes seemed to glow with a quiet heat, dark and crimson.  There was a long beat, and then Hannibal lifted his chin and lowered his eyes, offering his throat in silent acceptance of whatever Will chose to do with it. 

Will’s cock jerked, nearly hitting his stomach.  For a moment, everything went utterly silent.     

He squeezed.

Slowly— _slowly_ —he contracted his fingers around Hannibal’s throat, steadily increasing the pressure.  Hannibal continued to breath in and out evenly, but gradually his breaths began to grow more ragged, more laborious.  Eventually, he was taking in only the thinnest thread of air, the whining rasp of it like nothing Will had ever heard from Hannibal before.  Will swallowed.  His tongue felt thick, his face hot.  His thighs and buttocks clenched with burning arousal.

Will tightened his grip, and Hannibal stopped breathing. 

For a moment, Will stopped too, and then he let out the air from his lungs in a long, slow exhale.  He let himself just breath, in and out, as he watched. 

As he _watched_. 

Hannibal’s eyelids fluttered, but that was the only overt movement discernable.  His lips were parted, frozen in the act of taking their last breath.  He looked up at Will like he was trying to drink in the sight of him, to consume him with his gaze alone.  Bit by bit, his face began to soften, a haze clouding the orbs of his eyes.  His eyelids lowered unsteadily, fighting all the way.  Finally, the fingers around Will’s wrist loosened, and Hannibal’s hand fell to the bed. 

Will counted in his mind. 

One.

Two.

Three.

He yanked his hand back, releasing his hold on Hannibal’s throat.  Instantly, Hannibal sucked in an enormous, expanding breath, eyes snapping open like he’d been shot with adrenaline.  His hips arched off the bed, and Will had to grab on to his shoulders with both hands to keep his balance.  Hannibal bucked wildly underneath him, and Will could only ride it out like a wave, panting and groaning as the movements stabbed Hannibal’s cock deeper inside him. 

At last, Hannibal slumped back on the bed, gasping, a frenzied look about him as he stared upward, wide-eyed and disheveled.  Will was gasping too, holding onto Hannibal to steady himself.  Slowly blinking, Will gathered his wits and awareness. 

“Did you…” Will clenched his ass, feeling a wetness inside.  He glared at Hannibal, incredulous.  “…Did you just _come_?”

Panting softly, Hannibal swallowed.  He met Will’s eyes, and shrugged, tiredly sheepish. 

Will rolled his eyes and bit back an annoyed groan.  He glanced down at his own erection, still jutting out over Hannibal’s stomach, and then pointedly back to Hannibal.  “I told you I wanted to come with you inside me,” he grumbled. 

Blinking rapidly, Hannibal seemed to wince at that.  “Apologies.  That was…discourteous.”

“No shit,” Will agreed.  Hannibal winced again, lowering his eyes.  Will sighed.  “Well,” Will went on, surrendering most of his disappointment with a resigned shrug.  “Since you went ahead and decided to make a mess,” he teased, smirking dangerously as he leaned forward, lifting his haunches and letting Hannibal’s cock slip out of him.  “Why don’t you _clean it up.”_  

He shot Hannibal a challenging look.  Hannibal’s eyes flickered for a moment, and then settled as he grasped Will’s meaning.  He breathed in through his nose, a dark smile behind his eyes, and licked his lips.  “Of course.” 

A dirty thrill shot through him, and Will clambered up over Hannibal’s shoulders, settling with his knees on either side of his face.  Hannibal hands came to his hips, and then, without any pause, he stuck out his tongue and began lapping up the cum stuck to Will’s ass-cheeks.  Will wrapped a hand around his cock and stroked himself as Hannibal licked and sucked the cum dribbling from his hole.  He found himself blushing even as he groaned, having never experienced anything so deliciously filthy.  He pushed down into Hannibal’s mouth, squeezing his head between his thighs, and Hannibal didn’t complain, just held his hips tighter and buried his face further into Will’s ass. 

Will revved up the speed of his strokes, moaning wantonly as Hannibal laved at his hole.  He could feel his balls tightening, he was so close, _so close…_  

“Stick your tongue in me,” Will ordered, grunting, and Hannibal obeyed, immediately worming the slick appendage deep into his passage.  Will threw back his head, a desperate cry crashing out of him as his muscles tensed, and spilled sloppily into his hand.  There was a heady feeling of euphoria left over after his orgasm passed, and Will stayed there, gasping as he stared blankly up at the ceiling. 

When he finally felt like he could move again, Will swung his leg over and sat back on the bed.  He reached for the tissues on the nightstand and wiped the cum from his hand before tossing it into the wastebasket in the corner.  Hannibal followed Will’s movements, an odd look coloring on his face.  Then, his eyes retraced them, turning from Will’s hand, to the box of tissues, to the wastebasket.  There was a pause, and then he let out a disappointed sigh.  Will rolled his eyes, and pulled back the covers, climbing back into bed underneath. 

“Sorry I didn’t let you lick that up too,” Will quipped as Hannibal slid under the sheets with him. 

Hannibal made a little humming sound, and rolled onto his side.  “It was somewhat thoughtless of you,” he said, his tone utterly serious, though there was a twinkle in his eye.

Will snorted, chuckling, and rolled on his side to face Hannibal.  “What a greedy cum slut you turned out to be,” he said, teasing fondly. 

“There’s no need to be crass,” Hannibal said with a stern tilt of his head.  Will just smirked, and reached out to slide his thumb over a patch of spunk stuck to the corner of Hannibal’s mouth.

“You like it,” he insisted hotly, slipping that thumb into Hannibal’s mouth to suck.  “When I’m _crass_.  Besides,” he went on, taking his thumb out once it was clean.  “You don’t have any right to act all high and mighty, just ‘cause you can cuss in languages I don’t understand.”  He gave Hannibal a pointed look.  “What _did_ you call me, by the way?  When I was fucking you.”  He lifted an eyebrow, smirking.  “I know you called me something _vulgar_.”

“Nothing as vulgar as you’ve called me,” Hannibal retorted, and if Will had thought for an instant he actually minded, he might’ve left it there. 

“Come on,” he pushed, leaning in coyly.  “What’d you say?”  Hannibal remained stubbornly silent, and Will sighed.  “Fine.  You don’t have to tell me what it means.  Just say it again.” 

Hannibal looked at him curiously, and then let out a little sigh of his own.  “ _Velnio išpera_ ,” he recited, flatly amused. 

“ _Mmmm_ ,” Will breathed, playing it up, but only a little.  “ _That’s hot_.”  Hannibal’s eyes glimmered warmly, the corners of his lips twitching. 

“Now,” Will went on, fixing Hannibal with a firm look.  “What did I call _you_.  When I was fucking you.” 

Hannibal blinked, his amusement abruptly gone.  His expression was blank but for his eyes, the warmth in them having turned sharply and piercingly hot. 

“Say it,” Will said darkly, ruthlessly demanding. 

Hannibal’s jaw clenched.  There was a long moment as tiny movements flickered over his face.  Then he parted his lips, and let out a soft, quiet, quivering breath. 

“Mangy bitch.” 

He spoke the words evenly, but there was a tightness that betrayed the effect they had, and Will felt his lip twitch in victory. 

“Yeah, that sounds ‘bout right,” he murmured, exaggeratedly thoughtful, as though he didn’t recall it all perfectly and had actually needed Hannibal to remind him.  He ran a taunting finger down the side of Hannibal’s face.  “I remember now.  You were just like a bitch in heat, writhing on my cock.”  Hannibal inhaled sharply through his nose, eyelids fluttering. 

Smirking, Will pulled the covers from Hannibal’s body, and glanced down.  Hannibal’s cock was already half hard again.  “See,” Will said smugly, catching Hannibal’s eye. “You _like_ it.”

Hannibal met his gaze evenly, a dark, appreciative smile behind his eyes.  “Yes,” he said, somehow sounding both eager and reluctant at once.  “I do.”

“And,” Will pressed.  “You _are_ a greedy cum slut.” 

Hannibal’s eyes blackened.  “Yes.  I am.”  Something in his face softened.  “For you,” he added, very quietly.

Will shivered, a pleased warmth spreading through him.  Hannibal wasn’t the only one affected, he noted, as his own cock twitched against his thigh.  Will slid his eyes over Hannibal’s naked body, dipping further into the pool of arousal in his belly. 

“At risk of sounding too clinical for the occasion,” Hannibal said, switching to a more professional tone.  “Are you experiencing any discomfort, given our recent activities?” 

Will smiled, eyeing Hannibal’s cock.  “Are you asking if I can still _feel_ you in me?” Will asked teasingly, recalling Hannibal’s words over breakfast.  Hannibal glared at him, exasperated and fondly amused.  And turned on, Will noted happily.  Will sighed.  “Just a little,” he admitted.  He slid his eyes toward the curve of Hannibal’s ass.  “Not as bad as you, I’d imagine,” he added dryly. 

Hannibal hummed in acknowledgement.  “I believe I’ll be feeling your effects for some days to come.”

“More,” Will said roughly.  “If I keep fucking you.” 

There was a beat, as Hannibal throat worked silently.  “Yes,” he said finally, a rasping tint to his voice. 

“Would you like that?” Will smirked.  He put a hand on Hannibal’s hip, over the bruises he’d left there.  “I could make you forget what it’s like, not to be sore and aching.”  He slid his hand up Hannibal side, and brushed his fingers over the blemishes already forming along his throat.  “Not to have my marks on you.” 

Hannibal let out a throaty sigh and tilted his head, bending his neck into Will’s touch.  “Yes,” he answered readily.  “I would happily accept any marks you chose to give me.”  He glanced at Will meaningfully.  “Even more permanent ones.” 

“Mm.”  Will smiled dolefully.  His fingers caressed Hannibal’s throat, his touch soft and warm along the skin.  “A scar, you mean,” he said musingly.  “Or a _brand_?”  He met Hannibal’s eyes, and the other man frowned.  “Like…” He brought his hand down to brush over the healed over exit wound at Hannibal’s side.  “Francis Dolarhyde did?  Or Mason Verger?”  He took Hannibal’s wrist and turned it over, revealing the now nearly invisible line there.  “Or Matthew Brown?  Or…” Will touched a finger to the scar on Hannibal’s thigh, and frowned.  “…What was his name again?” 

Hannibal’s eyes tracked a moment.  “Tobias.  Tobias Budge.” 

“Right, him,” Will said.  He shook his head.  “No,” he said, softly.  “No, I like these better.”  He put his hand back on Hannibal’s hip, rubbing over a dark bruise with his thumb.  “They’ll fade.  And then, I get to make new ones, all over again.  And again.  And again.”  He met Hannibal eyes meaningfully.  “As long as you let me.” 

Hannibal’s eyelids flickered, and he took in a breath.  He opened his mouth, and then seemed to change his mind, pressing his lips together.  There was a long pause, and then Hannibal swallowed. 

“I hadn’t considered it in those terms,” he said finally, his voice deliberately level.  “I thought, perhaps, you might like to make some marks to match your own.” 

He glanced at Will’s forehead, and then down to his stomach.  Will looked down too, though he knew what was there.  He ran a finger along the length of the scar, a morbid smile curling at his lips. 

“From what I remember,” Will said, almost casually.  “You were quite angry when you made that.  You were also _leaving_.”  He lifted his gaze to meet Hannibal’s again.  “I told you.  I’m not angry anymore.  And I’m not going anywhere.”

A watery sheen slid over Hannibal’s eyes.  Then, he blinked, and it was gone, in it’s place only a dusky, inviting heat.  “Then I look forward to waking every day to find what patterns and designs you have left on me.” 

An excited fluttering erupted in Will’s belly, and he captured Hannibal’s mouth in kiss.  In some ways, it was still hard for him to believe, that Hannibal would let him do all this—that’s he’d _want_ him to—even as he kept proving it over and over.  As a kind of reminder to himself of the realness of it all, Will grabbed a handful of Hannibal’s ass, kneading the firm flesh with his fingers.  Hannibal moaned into his mouth and pushed back into his hand, and Will responded with an affectionate but still sharp slap to the underside of the cheek.  Hannibal let out a soft, startled gasp and froze.  Will rubbed thoughtfully over where he’d hit.  Then he pulled Hannibal’s leg up over his hip, the way Hannibal had done with him earlier, stroking the soft, sensitive undersides of Hannibal’s cheeks with his fingers.

“Does it sting?” Will asked, thinking of how red he’d left Hannibal’s ass the night before. 

Hannibal tilted his head, eyes hooded.  “Yes.”

Will hummed.  “Hurts to sit too, I’ll bet.”

“Yes,” Hannibal acknowledged with an incline of his head. 

Will’s mouth twitched upward.  “I like that,” he said, his voice gruff, feeling an embarrassed elation to admit it out loud.  “Even if you have enough… _self-control_ not to show it, I like knowing that you’re feeling what I did to you each and every time you sit down.”

Hannibal inhaled through his nose, letting the breath out with only the slightest tremor.  Will fondled the tender flesh under his hand. 

“I wonder if you’ll have as easy a time tomorrow,” Will murmured. 

Hannibal’s eyes flicked up sharply to meet Will’s for just a second, and then Will’s hand came down hard on his backside.  Hannibal’s snapped closed, his only other movement a minute twitch of his head. 

 “No,” Will said, grabbing a fistful of Hannibal’s hair with his other hand and tugging on it.  “Look at me.” 

Hannibal was quiet a moment, and then his eyes blinked open obediently.  Staring into Hannibal’s face, Will raised his hand again and brought it down in a brutal _smack_.  Hannibal barely flinched, but Will could see slight notes of agitation beginning to show in his eyes.  Will drank in the sight, and smiled. 

_Smack!_

Hannibal’s jaw clenched as he swallowed, and Will hit him again.  He set up a relentless tempo, leaving only enough space between blows to raise his hand again.  Hannibal bore it stoically for some time, his expression stubbornly unmoving.  Will persisted, punishing the same spots on Hannibal’s skin with ruthless efficiency.  The first crack in Hannibal’s composure was a faint shifting of his hips, buttocks clenching as his erection brushed against Will’s thigh.  A few strikes later, he let out a shuddering breath, a pink glow rising to the highest points of his cheekbones.  Then, his lips began to quiver.  Rolling his hips, he arched into Will’s hand and let out a faint grunting groan as the next blow struck.  All signs of deep, growing arousal. 

“Pain is easier to block out than pleasure,” Will observed.  “Isn’t it?”  Hannibal simply gasped in response, his eyelids blinking rapidly.  “And when the pain _is_ pleasurable,” Will continued.  “I imagine that would be particularly…challenging.”  There was a low whine from the back of Hannibal’s throat.  He gazed at Will with wide, desperate eyes, fighting the shudders that wracked his frame.  “How does it feel?  Being forced to lose control?  Is it…distressing?  Exposing?”  Will tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, scanning over the features of Hannibal’s face.  “Humiliating?”

“Would you like me to be humiliated?” Hannibal asked.  He sounded wrecked, ragged. 

Will frowned, considering.  “I like…” he said softly, unsettled by the question.  “I like seeing you like this,” he admitted, finally.  He breathed in deeply, bringing Hannibal’s face close to his.  “I like making you feel things no one else can.”

Hannibal let out a shaky breath.  His head tilted in unmindful yearning, offering his mouth for a kiss. 

“ _Will…_ ”

Will let their lips brush, but held Hannibal tightly by the hair, not letting it deepen into a real kiss.  Hannibal’s lips quavered in a voiceless whimper, but he didn’t reach and he didn’t beg. 

“Give me your hand,” Will said huskily. 

There was a beat, and then Hannibal held up his hand, palm open.  Reaching behind himself, Will managed to grab the lube from the nightstand.  He pumped a dollop of slick onto Hannibal’s fingers. 

“Touch yourself.”  Will said it brusquely, burying the shiver of arousal that ran through him as he said it. 

Hannibal glanced down at his hand, then back at Will.  “And how shall I touch myself?” He asked, almost managing a tone of polite, flirtatious curiosity. 

Will felt a warmth in his chest, and his mouth curved into a dark smirk.  “Why don’t you finger that fucked-out hole of yours,” he murmured gruffly. 

Hannibal gave no obvious reaction, but eyed Will with a sizzling stillness.  Then, his eyes flickered.  With deliberate slowness he reached down and behind himself.  Will didn’t look, but kept his eyes on Hannibal’s face.  There was a sharp intake of breath, and then a grunt, and Will knew Hannibal’s fingers had been pushed inside.  Will set a hand on the curve of Hannibal’s ass, felt it clench and shift as Hannibal fucked and stretched his hole.  Tiny twitches flickered across Hannibal’s face, fleeting and ever changing, his breathing furtively labored.

“Is this what you’d do at night?” Will taunted.  “Turn off your record player, go up to bed, and stick your fingers up your ass?”

Hannibal’s jaw tightened, his hips tilting into Will’s palm.  “Yes,” he rasped, throat clenched. 

“Did you think about me?” Will asked with a leer. 

Hannibal’s eyelids lowered, and then he lifted them, meeting Will’s gaze squarely.  “Yes.” 

Will felt himself smile, and he leaned in, nuzzling Hannibal’s nose with his own.  “How long have you been wanting me to fuck you, Hannibal?”

Hannibal licked his lips, eyes lowering to Will’s mouth.  He took in a breath.  “The first time the thought occurred to me,” he said levelly, his voice smooth and deep.  “Was when you told me how you would kill me.  An image flashed across my mind, just for a moment.” 

“What image,” Will prompted, not even surprised that Hannibal had been turned on while hearing Will talk about murdering him. 

Hannibal paused, then gave a half-shrug with his head.  “Myself, bent over my desk.  You, taking me roughly from behind.”  Will sucked in a breath through his nose, and Hannibal glanced up.  “I didn’t pay it any attention at the time,” Hannibal explained.  “It was only a fleeting thought.  But later, such thoughts persisted, and continued to arise.  There were others as well, of course; my attraction to you had been nearly instantaneous; but, after a time, it became impossible to deny the potency of that particular scenario.”

Will reflected on that for a moment. 

“Did you think about me while you were letting Alana fuck you?” Will asked, thinking about what Hannibal had told him earlier and the timeline involved.

There was a beat of silence.  “Yes,” Hannibal said.  “But only so far as to imagine how the experiences might differ.”

“And how did you imagine,” Will asked dryly.  “They might _differ_?” 

“With you, I imagined it would be…” Hannibal paused a moment.  “Less gentle.  More…intensified.” 

Will let out a low hum.  “And was it?”  He pulled Hannibal closer, letting their cocks graze against each other.  Hannibal hissed softly.  “Was it how you’d imagined?”

Hannibal’s chest rose and fell raggedly.  There was a long silence.  “No,” he answered finally.  “No, I couldn’t have…I could never have imagined—”  He broke off into a shuddering breath, his body quivering delicately against Will’s.  “ _Will_ ,” he whispered, curling into Will’s shoulder. 

Will loosened his grip on Hannibal hair, letting his fingers comb lightly through the strands at the back of his neck.  His other hand moved to Hannibal’s wrist, tugging the hand from between his legs.  Will brought Hannibal’s lubed hand to his cock, squeezing his own hand around Hannibal’s as he coated his cock with slick.  Hannibal’s hand trembled in his as it wrapped around Will’s shaft, his breath hot against Will’s neck. 

“Lie on your back, Hannibal,” Will instructed softly.  “And spread your legs for me.” 

There was a sharp inhale, and then Hannibal slowly detached himself from Will, turning onto his back with a low sigh.  He dragged his knees up to his sides, offering himself with silent passivity.  Will climbed between his opened thighs, grabbing them in firm hands.  He pushed them open further and lined his cock with Hannibal’s presented hole. 

“Show me how you touch yourself,” Will said, his voice low.  “How you like to be touched.” 

Hannibal’s eyes stared upwards, his face impassive.  His fingers twitched against the bed.  Then, he lifted a hand and brought it to his mouth.  He stuck two fingers inside, sucking wetly, and then brought them to one nipple.  He fondled the nub, pinching and twisting lightly, as his other hand slid along his stomach to his cock.  He took himself in hand and began stroking, firm and even, his thumb caressing the head with each stroke. 

Watching eagerly, Will tightened his grip on Hannibal’s thighs, and then slammed inside.  Hannibal let out a strangled cry as Will buried his cock to the hilt with one brutal thrust.  Will stayed there, relishing the feel of Hannibal around him, the sensation of his hips held tight against Hannibal’s ass.  He took a moment to let his gaze drift over the picture Hannibal made, spread wide and gasping for breath.  Then he drew out, and slammed in again, just as forcefully. 

Hannibal moaned, the sound ending in a soft whimper as Will pressed deep inside him.  His cock was already leaking over his fist, which was just fine since Will wasn’t sure how long he could last anyway.

Will took up a steady, slow, deliberate rhythm, taking care to make sure every thrust was just as deep and hard as the first.  With each pound into his ass, Hannibal seemed to fray a little bit more, his face twisting as his body shuddered and quaked.  He ran one hand over his chest, grabbing and then clawing at his pectorals in frantic desperation as he gulped down air. 

“W— _Will_ ,” Hannibal wailed quietly.  His hand started to reach out, but then he pulled it back to his chest.  He closed his eyes, and Will caught the faint glimmer of tears tracking down his cheeks before Hannibal’s hand moved to cover his face. 

Stomach clenching, Will bent forward over Hannibal’s prone form.  He pulled at Hannibal’s hand, working to lift it from his face.  Hannibal fought him, though only weakly, his face twisting when he let his hand fall limply to one side.  Will took his tear-stained face in his hands, not allowing him turn away, and kissed him.  He tasted salt before Hannibal opened to him, letting him into the heat of his mouth.  They slid their lips and tongues together, quiet and scorching, while Hannibal wrapped his legs around Will’s waist, locking them together.  Will rolled his hips against Hannibal’s ass, and then they were both coming, shaking into each other in a clamor of muffled, gasping cries. 

Will fell onto Hannibal’s chest, eyes closing, his arms falling loosely around Hannibal’s shoulders.  Hannibal cum was sticking to both their stomachs, but Will couldn’t be bothered to care as he lay panting into Hannibal’s sweat-slicked skin.

They lay together a long time, their legs tangling together.  A hand came to the back of Will’s head, carding softly through his hair. 

“Will.” 

Will blinked as Hannibal said his name, having almost fallen asleep.

“Mm?” he asked.

“If you do ever decide to go…” Hannibal said, his fingers caressing the back of Will’s neck.  “…leave me something to remember you by?” 

It took a moment for Will to follow the thread of Hannibal’s softly worded request.  He frowned, lifting his head to look at Hannibal.  Hannibal looked back at him, earnest and clear, waiting for an answer.

Will’s heart hammered against his ribs.  He swallowed.  In his mind he saw himself, lying as they were now, plunging a knife into Hannibal.  He cut along the skin and flesh as blood spilled in pools around them, soaking into the bed.  Tears sprang behind his eyes.  He felt sick.

Blinking away the tears, Will pushed himself up.  He looked Hannibal in eye, his gaze firm and unyielding. 

“I promise.”


End file.
